Two Sides of the Same Coin
by ThxrinOxkenshield
Summary: A copycat killer and a brand new addition of a sidekick. Rachel 'Barnes' Berry was programmed by a gifted hypnotist to follow in the steps of the Winter Soldier in order to frame HYDRA and go after a more sinister goal while the Avengers were distracted. Quinn Fabray was nothing more than an agent of SHIELD turned sidekick for Steve after their successful time as partners.


**Author's Note: The 'hypnotist' used in this story is a legitimate character in the Marvel universe as one of Spiderman's villains. In his original comic, he was described as a joke since he only used his abilities(or lack thereof) to rob people. His music could rob anyone of their senses, yet he used them for a weak reason. I've decided to give him a more sinister role.**

* * *

Her name was Rachel Barbra Berry. She was born in Lima, Ohio to Hiram and Leroy Berry, she attended McKinley High School, she loved to sing, she loved music, and she wasn't a killer. She had won Nationals for her team in her senior year, she successfully moved away to accomplish her dreams in NYADA, she successfully earned a part for herself in the role as Fanny, and she wasn't a killer. Her best friend was Kurt Hummel, her dance teacher was a complete nightmare, she called Mr. Shuester everyday to tell him about her progress, she received her first standing ovation as an actress on Broadway, and she wasn't a killer.

The blood on her hands were beginning to dry, becoming sticky. Tears continued to leak down her cheeks in hot waves. Her velvety dress was still soft and straight as she stumbled slowly to her feet. The body before her was no longer moving, and she was sure bodies weren't meant to naturally bend that way. Rachel's quiet sobs didn't interrupt the still quiet night. She didn't even remember the man's face, let alone putting her hands on him long enough for him to lose his own life. By the looks of it, she was ten times smaller than him. There was no way she could accomplish something like this. Breathing heavily, she quickly moved to grab her cellphone from her tiny purse. She had to call someone, she had to reach out for help.

"_I wouldn't do that if I were you_," a silky voice interrupted the atmosphere, making her scream and turn on the spot. Her phone screen shattered as she dropped it, hitting the concrete with a sickening crash. Rachel paid it no mind, instead searching the darkness for the source of the voice. Rather than revealing what was obviously a him, he continued to speak with a chirpy sort of tone. He sounded so eager, "Y_ou're perfect. Small, insignificant, naïve...they would never expect someone like you. What's your name?_"

"M-My-? Who are you? Please...I need help!" she sputtered, her voice cracking.

"_I can help you, darling, you just have to shut up and tell me what I need to know. If you cooperate...I can help you_," the voice continued, "_Now, tell me...what is your name? You look awfully...familiar._"

"R-Rachel Berry."

"_That's it! The...The Broadway actress, am I right? Yes, perfect..._"

Rachel backed away, squeaking as she nearly stumbled over the limp body. Glancing back down at it, she whimpered feebly.

"Please...I need help. I...I think I hurt him."

"_Oh, you did. You responded beautifully to the music. I've never seen anyone react the way you have, but...I suppose this is why fate is such a dawning factor in one's own endeavors. Rachel Berry, I feel we'll be able to accomplish great things together._"

The voice was getting closer. Rachel knew whoever was speaking to her was approaching her fast. Fiddling with her still bloody hands, she tried to remain as calm as possible. But how could she? There was a dead body at her feet, her hands were covered in what was most likely his blood, and now she had someone speaking to her as if he had known her for years. She has never felt more terrified in her entire life. Finally, however, the figure came into the weak light of the street lamp.

It was a man, a few years older than she was with a tall, intimidating stature. He had smooth dark skin with brown eyes to match. His hair was cut short and his clothes resembled something out of one of those angsty coffee shops with teenage hipsters constantly complaining about their lack of an interesting life. There was no way the sinister voice belonged to him. It was impossible.

"I am Antoine Delsoin," he introduced, bowing his head slightly, "You don't know who I am, but you will soon enough."

"P-Please, Antoine...I...this man...I don't know what happened. I think I blacked out. I was on my way back to my apartment. I was on the phone with my roommate, Kurt. Please, call someone, please," she begged, tears filling her brown eyes again. She was pleading with a complete stranger, a man who had no obligation to anything but himself.

"But this man did not help you? Since your memories have obviously been tarnished, I suppose I can get you up to speed. I saw you walking down the way. You didn't even bother keeping your voice down. Are you aware you are in New York, a place crawling with men like him? He attacked you from behind; his intentions were quite clear. As soon as I...played my music, you managed to defend yourself with ease. Such a small thing with such brute strength..."

Rachel backed away slowly. "What? I didn't...I couldn't have..."

"But you did. I know who you are thanks to that little play you did. It's no wonder you reacted so personally to my music; you obviously have a connection to it," Antoine continued, slowly approaching her again. Rachel would've backed away if she wasn't frozen in terror. "You should feel proud, Rachel Berry...you've been chosen for something very special. You will have to forgive me for not giving you a heads up. I should've stopped as soon as his neck turned the wrong way...but we all do things we regret. He was a bit of an asshole, anyway."

"What do you want from me?" she whimpered.

"I want you to stand as a symbol. Rachel Berry is nothing more than something you're no longer affiliated with. If I'm going to do this right, you will have to cooperate to every extent. They're smart up there, all under the watchful eye of Nick Fury. None of them will expect a small, little thing like yourself and of your status to be doing this. It's the perfect opportunity. C'mon...we have work to do."

"I'm not going anywhere with you!" Rachel scoffed, pushing him away. "We need to call the cops! I-I need to call Kurt! I...I need..." She trailed off uneasily as he suddenly ripped something from his pocket. At a glance, it looked like nothing more than an old Walkman from the 90's. That wasn't much of a weapon. Before she could grow angry and slap him right across the face, however, he pressed play and she froze in place, mind blank.

"That's it," he whispered. "This Kurt will have to understand. In fact...here." He took out a cellphone from a different pocket and handed it to her. The music was nothing more than a dull lull in the background, but Rachel seemed unresponsive as she took the cellphone with her face still blank. She switched it to life and quickly began dialing a number before placing it to her ear.

"Kurt, it's Rachel," she said, her tone rid of any emotions whatsoever. "I'm fine, but I won't be returning home. It would be wise of you to just simply take everything from my room. Do not worry. I'm perfectly safe. Goodbye." She hung up and quickly handed Antoine his phone back and continued to stand straight, staring straight ahead.

"That's a good girl," he grinned. "Let's go, then."

With that, he led her back off into the alley. She followed without question, still drawn to the music playing from his cassette tape, leaving the body behind.

That was the last known sighting of Rachel Berry for an entire year. The search for her is still ongoing, thanks to her still-worried roommate, Kurt Hummel. Nobody has seen her since.

* * *

She laughed again, the giggle dripping lightly off the walls as she twirled the pen in her hand fondly. The room had a light atmosphere for the four people sitting inside it, dressed comfortably as she pooled over a notebook and the rest of them kept their noses tight behind either a book or a newspaper.

Quinn was going over her newly assigned homework from Nick, pretty much cheating by now since she was slyly getting answers from Steve who was as oblivious as ever. Bucky and Natasha chose not to respond, though she could see similar grins on both of their faces. By now, they knew of her antics. Despite the fact she knew practically everything there was to know, Nick had to find something she didn't in an attempt to challenge her.

Her blonde hair currently cascaded down her shoulders in little ringlets. She was, unironically, wearing Iron Man pajamas with socks to match. If anything, she looked extremely comfortable. The room, itself, was clean and homey. The walls were a baby blue, the windows completely open and the blinds pulled so the sun could pry inside. The furniture was mismatching, but it somehow went really well together.

Stark didn't originally give them the room with the intention for them to stay in it, but since Fury gave Quinn the upgrade, she's been bunking there. Stark didn't really mind. He enjoyed Quinn's company very much so. She was a sweet girl with a fiery spark he loved to ignite occasionally. It was no wonder Steve made the effort to put her under his wing.

"Oh, no..." Natasha suddenly mumbled, folding the newspaper so she could look at the article closer. "Another layout. Male, twenty-four years old, broken neck. That's the fourth time this year. Any more and Fury might issue us on the case." Quinn bit her lip, pausing with the pen on the notebook.

She wasn't about to consider it a serial killer, but there were four bodies as of now, all dead horrifically by someone who was probably ten times bigger than they were. It was always either a broken neck or strangled. Quinn could only assume it was some stupid gang member or drug dealer that didn't get their money's worth, but whenever the victim's whole life came out, they were regular people. They had normal jobs, normal families, and normal lives. It didn't make much sense.

"Any clue on who it could be?" she asked.

"Whoever it is, their fingerprints aren't in the system. That's the only trace they seem to leave behind," Natasha shrugged, before chucking the paper at her. "It has to be someone strong. Nobody can do damage like that without a weapon of some kind, otherwise you're just a big person with a shitload of anger. It's not really anything for us to look into, but it might come out that they're targeting specific people."

"Not much of specifics if each is different from the last. But I just figured out the pattern," Quinn smirked, holding up the paper.

"No, you didn't," Bucky scoffed.

"Try me," Quinn grinned, sitting up, "Each body is found closer and closer to the Tower. It's a warning. A subtle one, but it's definitely something to watch out for. Whoever it is, they're taking the party here; I just don't understand why they're killing insignificant people instead of-"

"They're not insignificant," Steve interrupted, a little offended, "They still had families. They still had lives."

"Even still, Rogers...they're not taking out people of importance."

"Unless they're working their way up to that," Natasha said. "Let me see that paper again?" Quinn tossed it to her, and she read it. "First victim was a druggie that worked at a local coffee shop. Next one was one of those Uber drivers. The third was a college professor. This one was a lawyer. Each profession superior to the last. Gotta admit, Fabray. I'm a little impressed."

Quinn laughed, feeling her cheeks redden. "It's our job. Besides, I'm sure PD will figure it out soon enough. If anything, we're just thinking way outside the box and it's all just one big coincidence. I doubt it's really got anything to do with us."

"Don't jinx it," Bucky sighed, rolling his eyes.

"I agree," Steve smiled at him. "We better get going, anyway. We have a special assignment today that needs us downtown, which is about a half hour drive considering the traffic. Get dressed." He stood up, closing the book and setting it down. He grabbed the newspaper from Natasha and not so subtly rolled it up to shove down his right pocket. Quinn decided not to ask. After a while of working with him, she's come to find out questions don't work with a man who broods constantly like he did.

Quinn wasn't all that close with him when she first started in SHIELD. In fact, it took years before she even worked her way to interacting with the heroes. Fury appreciated her more for her intellect rather than her physical capabilities in the beginning. She was used more for her mind than anything else. When a situation called for her to take on the assignment herself after her colleagues failed to do so, Nick saw she was a bigger threat and began her training.

From there she met Earth's mightiest heroes. Of course, it was somewhat hard to get along with most of them considering some were arrogant like Stark or some were awkward like Banner. The one who managed to capture her entire mentality was Steve. He was righteous, brave, and compassionate. She admired his qualities and ended up getting stuck with him during a particularly terrible mission. Upon the end, all that was needed was a glance and the other one would know exactly what the first being was doing. They made an amazing team.

She didn't plan to adopt the America's Girl persona and become this superhero that had to hide behind a blue mask so her identity was still sacred. However, it was something she loved. Saving the world and being able to provide for those who cannot fight for themselves was a responsibility she thoroughly enjoyed. It only got better as the time got longer.

She slipped the fitted shirt over her head before she grabbed her keycard and quickly dashed from the bedroom, looking slightly disheveled since she moved so quickly. Assignments, depending on the person, required her to wear certain types of clothing. Sometimes she needed to be able to get out quickly. Otherwise she needed to be rather discreet.

Steve was waiting for her on the bottom floor, a black car waiting right outside with the windows rolled down so they could see their driver.

"Do you guys know how long you take? I mean, seriously! We're gonna be late!" Sam snapped, staring at them through his sunglasses.

"Relax," Steve laughed, "Keller won't mind. He was late to the last one. Let's get going." He crawled into the passenger seat while Quinn took the back. Sam accelerated quickly, taking them away from the Tower and into town. She leaned back comfortably into her leather seats, looking out the window fondly.

"Status report?" Sam asked.

"Nothing, really. We had a pretty calm morning. We read about that killing the other night. Fourth time this year, huh?"

"I know. Weird as hell. No witnesses, no security footage. It's all a blur, apparently. They think they're looking for a huge man with a gang affiliation, but I think they're just stereotyping to kid themselves by now."

"You think so?"

"Hell yeah! They're scared. Scared people lie."

"I don't lie when I'm scared."

"Now, I know that's a li-"

"LOOK OUT!"

Quinn shrieked as Sam hit the brakes, sending them all lunging forward and making their seatbelts dig right into their torsos. She panted, holding her heart from shock as Steve checked to make sure Sam was okay before checking in on her.

"What? What happened?"

"Ask that crazy bitch standing in the middle of the road," Sam mumbled.

Quinn, confused, leaned forward and squinted through the windshield. Sure enough, just a few feet ahead stood a girl. She was extremely short and petite, her hair long and rugged looking. The brown didn't stand out much to what she was wearing, which was a black t-shirt over ripped skinny jeans. It looked like some dumb teenager pulling a funny. Her eyes, as wide as they were, were drenched in black makeup, making her look like a raccoon. She glared heavily at their car as she slowly began to approach.

"Stay inside," Steve mumbled, slowly unbuckling himself.

"Steve..." Sam said warningly.

"It's just a girl, Sam. Look at her, she might need help."

But, almost as if she was offended by that accusation despite not being anywhere near them to hear, the girl suddenly reached into her pocket and dug out what looked to be a tiny dagger. With ease, she chucked it, hitting the windshield straight on. Given that it was Sam's vehicle, the dagger didn't go through; it got stuck. But it was pretty easy to see where her initial target was at: Steve's heart.

"Yeah, I don't think she needs help, man." Sam mumbled.


End file.
